Losing someone we love is one of life’s hardest experiences.
Recently, I faced this reality with the passing of my dad.
Writing this post is my way of sharing the journey through grief, strength, and healing. I hope that by opening up, others who are grieving too may feel less alone.
A Tribute to My Dad
My dad was not just my father—he was my quiet strength, my steady presence in a world that often felt chaotic. He didn’t need grand gestures to show his love. It was in the small things: the way he always made sure we had what we needed, the way he sat in silence and listened, the way he smiled with his eyes when he was proud of us.
He taught me more through his actions than his words. From him, I learned the value of hard work, integrity, and resilience. He was the kind of man who carried his burdens without complaint, who showed up even when it was hard, who gave without expecting anything in return.
Some of my favorite memories with him aren’t even big moments—they’re simple, quiet times. I remember a first car ride with my father back when he just bought his first car. That ride is first and last ride with my dad.I remember I feel so scared when on that right because his first time driving the car but at the same time, I know he can drive and we will arrived safely at my relative’s house in Bintulu.
My dad was not a laugh person but he is the man that always in action, not just saying words.Even in his silence, he was full of presence. Even now, in his absence, I feel that presence in ways I can’t quite explain.
The Day Everything Changed
The day I lost my dad is a day that replayed in my mind over and over again. It’s strange how time seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. One moment, life was just moving along. The next, everything stopped.
I still vividly remember the moment I my dad passed away. I am grateful I able to be on his side on his last day. My heart sank in a way I had never felt before. There was a heaviness in my chest that words can’t fully describe. I didn’t know what to do—I just sat there, frozen, as the world around me kept turning.
Grief came crashing in like a wave I wasn’t ready for. Part of me kept hoping it was a bad dream. But at the same time, I feel relieved because he no longer in pain in this world but he will be rest well in heaven.
In that moment, I realized that losing a parent is like losing a piece of yourself. No matter how old you are, you still feel like a child wanting to be held. Wanting one more conversation. One more moment.
What Grief Feels Like
Grief is not just sadness. It’s not just crying or missing someone. It’s an ache that lives quietly in our chest, showing up at the most unexpected times—while driving, while folding laundry, while scrolling through old photos. It’s the lump in your throat when you hear his favorite song. It’s the tears that come without warning.
Some days, I feel like I’m functioning. Smiling, working, talking to people. And then suddenly, I’m not. The weight of the loss hits me again. It’s like learning to walk all over again, but this time with part of your heart missing.
There are moments when I feel guilty for laughing or enjoying something. As if happiness should be on pause because he’s gone. But I know deep down, my dad wouldn’t want me to stop living. He’d want me to be okay. To find peace.
People say time heals all wounds. Maybe that’s true. Or maybe grief just becomes part of you—a quiet companion you learn to carry.
What I’ve realized is that grief is the price of love. And the deeper the love, the deeper the pain.
Trying to Be Strong
Everyone keeps telling me, “You’re so strong.” I appreciate the words, but the truth is—I don’t always feel strong. Some days, I feel like I’m barely holding it together. I smile so others don’t worry. I show up to life because I have to. But inside, I’m still piecing myself back together.
Being strong doesn’t mean I’m not hurting. It just means I’ve decided not to let the pain stop me from living. My strength looks like getting out of bed when all I want is to hide under the covers. It looks like showing up for my family, my responsibilities, and myself—even when my heart feels heavy.
There are quiet moments when I talk to him. In my prayers. In my thoughts. I ask him for strength. I imagine what he would say. I hear his voice reminding me to be patient, to stay grounded, to keep going.
I’m learning that strength isn’t about being unaffected. It’s about feeling everything and still moving forward. It’s about love. And love never really dies.
The Lessons He Left Me
My dad didn’t always speak in long, deep conversations—but his life was a lesson. He showed me how to live with humility, how to work hard without complaining, and how to love quietly but deeply.
He taught me that family always comes first. That keeping your word matters. That it’s better to listen more than you speak. I realize now how much of who I am came from watching him live his life with quiet strength and unshakable values.
He taught me that being present is more important than being perfect. That your actions say more than your words. And that love isn’t always loud—it can be found in the way someone checks in on you, prepares your favorite meal, or sits beside you in silence.
Even though he’s no longer here, his lessons live on. They guide me, comfort me, and remind me of who I want to be. I carry them with me in everything I do.
Moving Forward With Him in My Heart
Moving forward feels like a strange, slow journey. There are days when the emptiness feels too big to bear, and other days when I catch a glimpse of hope, a reminder that life still holds beauty.
I’m learning to live with his absence, but also with his presence—in my memories, in the values he gave me, and in the love that never fades. I try to honor him by living the way he would be proud of—kind, strong, and grounded.
Grief doesn’t have a timeline. It’s a process, a path with ups and downs. And I’m giving myself permission to feel all of it—to cry, to laugh, to remember, and to heal.
If you’re reading this and have lost someone too, know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to be strong and it’s okay to not be. Take your time. Be gentle with yourself.
My dad may be gone from this world, but he lives on in my heart. And that’s where he always will.
Thank you for reading and holding space for my story.
If you’re navigating loss yourself, remember that grief is a personal journey—there is no right or wrong way to feel. Be patient with yourself, and know that healing comes in its own time. May we all find strength in love, memories, and the quiet moments that keep our loved ones alive in our hearts.
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